TO LIE WITH MIDNIGHT ROSES

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RENESSA

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I wake to swollen eyes as if I had been crying all night.

Sitting up in what seems to be a bed as I brush the tangled hair out of my face, continuing to slowly open my aching eyelids. I reach my hands down to pull off the blanket covering my legs, a blanket that interestingly doesn't feel like mine. Nothing like mine at all, in fact I know it isn't mine.

My blurred eyes jolt open, my vision being consumed by the darkness of the room. Once they come into focus I can see more now but not much as the shapes and outlines of furniture are being illuminated only by a small, dimly lit lamp on the night table beside me. I'm certain now, that wherever I was, I was very far from home.

Suddenly, I'm hit with a gut-wrenching recollection of last night's events and before I can even fully comprehend the fact that I was no longer in my own home, blurry visions and sounds spun around as if my mind had just been put inside a washing machine.

Grey, swirling recollections of last night pounded in my head and then I heard their voices again. My body jolts as I bring my hands up, covering my ears. The sounds of the men shouting, a flickering candle, glass shattering, a gust of cold wind, a knife, blood — so much blood and then him. The man that saved me, or so I thought until I remember he tried tricking me, convincing me that none of that had ever happened while he looked at me with his dark eyes. His strangely soothing deep voice, his soft cold hands that somehow provided me warmth in such a horrific crime scene that was my living room floor and then his blood being shoved; no. Forced down my throat and somehow healing every inch of my body that was once slashed, sliced and bruised.

My mind had no answers.

The taste of something metallic lingered still in my mouth on my tongue and in my cheeks, blood. His blood. My stomach churns, a burning sensation rising in my throat and saliva now building up beneath my tongue urging me to hurl. I steady myself as my feet hit the ground, unbalanced as I make my way towards the door across from me hoping to get out of here and fast.

I twist the antique brass knob of the large wooden door and it squeaks as it opens. Assuming that this place, wherever I am, was where the man was staying makes me wince at the sound of the door knowing now that he would hear me.

I look up and there he is.

Xavier.

My body freezes as my bones and muscles seize to help me. My brain is useless as it sends no words to my mouth, no screams, nothing. I stand there, looking at him then glancing down at my cold legs just now realizing I'm wearing a large dark green button-down shirt that hangs just low enough to cover my backside. My hands grab at the front of the fabric and I pull down on it, I look back up to the tall man looming over me as my cheeks flush red with embarrassment and anger at the same time.

"Good morning," He says, his face emotionless and pale.

I could see his eyes now and they were light brown and it was that familiar shade of brown, the same shade of brown my dad had. The type of brown that's just light enough that when the light hits them it looks like root beer, which was odd because even though it was pretty dark last night I could've sworn they were jet-black.

His face scrunched up slightly when I didn't respond to him, I just stood there staring as my brain became my worst enemy, declining to help me and refusing to send any sort of neurotransmitter signals to my nerve cells.